


There's Thunder in the Sky

by mnemosyne



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne/pseuds/mnemosyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She’s not dead</i>, he says to himself, but it’s too risky, too risky to type it out and tempt whatever to come and prove him wrong.</p>
<p>Drabble, post-ME3 Destroy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Thunder in the Sky

They don’t let Garrus see her for a long time.

But that’s ok. He can do waiting. He’s not used to doing it without a sniper rifle and a target in his sights, but he can adapt. He’s replaced the weapon with a constantly updating datapad, full of messages from people he’s never met, some of them friends, many of them simply strangers desperate to know if they must count their hero amongst their losses. He reads them all, but few go answered.  _She’s not dead_ , he says to himself, but it’s too risky, too risky to type it out and tempt whatever to come and prove him wrong.

The Normandy crew have been trickling in and out; grim, held smiles pretending like they firmly believe in Shepard’s immortality. If healing were based on willpower alone, Garrus thinks, their commander would outlive Liara’s great grandchildren. When Kaidan comes by, he asks the nurses about Shepard, and takes Garrus out for food, talks to him about the sun setting over English Bay. It’s different now, he says, but it’s still home.

On the third day, Diana Allers drops in; eyes red-rimmed beneath flaking mascara, lipstick smudges on the base of a ragged thumbnail. She takes the pad from Garrus and sits down beside him, her perfume twisting incense and leather through antiseptic. He feels his body sag in the chair and lets her bring him back into focus. A small hand takes his, as the other taps the screen over streams of conversations he hasn’t had with people he doesn’t know. 

"I can sort this out," she says, "if you’d like me to?"

Garrus nods, and a small bark of laughter escapes him, “I’ve never been good at,” a pause, “other people.”

"Lucky for you," Diana replies, bumping against his shoulder, " _other people_  are my specialty.”

She leaves only when Kaidan arrives again for dinner; they clasp hands in the doorway, and kiss in greeting, like the old friends they’ve never been. 

There are scrapes on Kaidan’s knuckles and a stiffness in the flex of his fingers, Garrus notices, as the man twists a ticket stub between them. 

"Drink?" he offers.

"Several," Kaidan agrees.


End file.
